


The Parks Department

by AmazonWorrier



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, a dash of faberry, eventual brittana probably, everyone is just really gay, pezberry chaos, the glee parks & rec AU nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazonWorrier/pseuds/AmazonWorrier
Summary: Rachel Berry, a mid-level bureaucrat from the Parks and Recreation Department in Lima, Ohio, hopes to beautify her town (and boost her own career) by helping local resident Santana Lopez turn an abandoned construction site into a community park. However, what should be a fairly simple project is stymied at every turn by oafish bureaucrats, selfish neighbours, governmental red tape, and a myriad of other challenges.Glee, but make it Pawnee...
Relationships: Artie Abrams/Kitty Wilde, Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez/Rachel Berry, minor Santana Lopez/Sam Evans
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31





	1. The Pit

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was messing around with a dumb Parks & Rec AU gifset for tumblr then I slipped and started writing a fic to go with it. Oops...
> 
> https://amazonworrier.tumblr.com/post/642598364449488897/glee-but-make-it-pawnee-rachel-berry-a

_The town of Lima, Ohio, lovingly dubbed ‘The Bean’ by those closest to it, is located in northwest Ohio approximately 72 miles north of Dayton, 78 miles southwest of Toledo and 63 miles southeast of Fort Wayne, Indiana. Sources say the name “Lima” was chosen in a nod to the Peruvian capital, which had been a major source of an anti-malaria drug during the 1800s. The illness had been a significant problem in the region at the time, due to an area known as the Great Black Swamp._

_Rachel Berry would like it known that such a historical place was the **only** area near Lima called the Great Black Swamp and she didn’t appreciate certain individuals crudely implying otherwise. She has sex at least once a year, sometimes even more._

_Anyway, not the point._

_The point is that Lima is the greatest town in America and Rachel Berry is proud to call it her home._

* * *

“I am the Deputy Director of the Department of Parks and Recreation in the city of Lima, Ohio.” Rachel sat rigidly at her desk, partially obscured by a sea of female politicians whose pictures were proudly displayed on every inch of the wooden surface. She’d arranged them specifically so they were on prominent display for the shoot that day (usually she left some room for her computer, and other work-related objects).

From behind the camera poked Artie, a college student who was producing an insightful documentary on local government for his work placement project, “Cool, thanks Rachel. I’d say ‘one more for safety’ but we’ve already got like forty-five takes of you introducing yourself, so…”

“Oh, I can do one more if you need it?” Rachel offered eagerly.

“No!” Kitty, their other intern, almost dropped the boom mic above Rachel’s head, “Let’s move on.”

“Okay,” Rachel nodded, scanning the distance between the camera and her desk. It didn’t feel like nearly enough space to capture her office setting in its full glory, “Can you guys get wide enough to see the flag behind me?”

* * *

The entire parks department had gathered in the conference room for their Monday morning meeting. On Rachel’s left sat Kurt Hummel, her competent if albeit slightly disenfranchised office cohabitant with sass for days. On her right, Mercedes and Tina. She wasn’t entirely sure what they did all day, to be honest. But they were very lovely people.

Well, Mercedes was.

Tina was just… _Tina._

At the front of the room stood Will Schuester, Director of the Parks and Recreation Department. He was a great man, even though he suffered from a slight enthusiasm deficiency when it came to anything related to work, or government, or working for the government.

“Sue Sylvester has asked me to remind all of you that any gift given by a member of the public worth more than $25 is required, by law, to be reported immediately,” Will announced monotonously.

Brittany, Will’s loveable but flakey assistant, had been the first to drop her nail file and look up, “Would a gift certificate count or is that okay because technically it’s just money to buy yourself a gift?”

“How much are we talking about here?” Will frowned.

“Five hundred dollars.”

“Yes,” Will rolled his eyes, “That counts.”

“Okay, but hypothetically let’s say I already spent like four hundred of it…” 

“Brittany,” Rachel had leapt up, scandalised by the idea, “You have to report it! The last thing we need is the press breathing down our necks. Isn’t that right, Artie?”

In the corner of the room, Artie looked up from his phone, “Oh, I wasn’t filming this.”

“Before we close,” Will appeared to be losing patience, “Tonight is the community outreach public forum. Rachel is gonna lead it. Can one of you please join her so we don’t have a repeat of the Ramsgate Park Barbeque incident?”

The whole room began to chuckle quietly, while Brittany applauded. 

“I won’t apologise for my passion.” Rachel pursed her lips, “That girl already had a broken leg when she got there.”

“And she left with _two_ ,” Mercedes quipped, graciously accepting a high-five from Kurt without looking up from her magazine.

“Guys,” Will warned, “Can someone please just volunteer so we can end this meeting and all go home?”

Rachel frowned, “It’s noon.”

“I’d be happy to do it,” Tina offered brightly, earning an eye-roll from most and an outward groan from Rachel.

Will ignored her, gathering his papers and leaving the room, “Kurt. You’re up.”

Kurt slumped over in his seat like a rag-doll, “Ugh. Fine.”

* * *

“This is so cool you guys, I’m really glad you came!” Rachel bounded through the hallway of the local elementary school with the relentless energy of a golden retriever. She absolutely _loved_ community forums, and volunteered to host them at every available opportunity.

Walking somewhat less enthusiastically behind her was Kurt, flanked on either side by Kitty, Artie and their camera gear. 

“This is where the most passionate members of our local community come to have their voices heard, which is a crucial part of being in government. We're here for the people.” Rachel continued, “I’ve had some truly magical nights in this place, I can tell you that.” 

“One of the regulars is an illusionist,” Kurt clarified, “His card tricks are okay, just _don’t_ let him within three feet or he’ll take your wallet.”

Artie and Kitty, having grown up in Lima all their lives, appeared unsurprised by this information.

Upon arriving at a large blue set of doors outside the auditorium, Rachel turned to look down the barrel of the camera. “When I go through those doors, I have to be on. Think of me like the Barbra Streisand of politics, or the Hillary Clinton of Broadway. The crowd out there is intense. If I don't bring my A-Game, they will tear me to shreds within seconds. So... I guess I should say break a leg, right?"

“That doesn’t work if you wish it on yourself,” Kurt rolled his eyes. 

Rachel ignored him, pushing with gusto against the door so she could make a grand entrance for the sake of her lively camera crew. Instead, she hit a hard, unmoving surface.

The door was locked.

* * *

It was fine, they just relocated to one of the pre-school classrooms instead. Totally fine.

After they moved through the introductions, Rachel had opened up to the floor for questions. This part was always a bit of a lottery, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Of the three attendees that night (amazing turn-out!), the first person to stand from behind one of the tiny, paint-covered desks was a middle aged woman with short blonde hair and a matching red tracksuit.

“I am here because a crime has been committed and I will not stand idly by any longer,” the woman declared, appearing to be in quite significant distress.

Rachel managed to plaster on a fake smile, unlike Kurt who sighed and immediately sunk lower into his chair. As one of the more active branches of government, the Parks and Recreation Department were all too familiar with the relentless antagonism brought down on them by their very own city manager, Sue Sylvester. Rachel was starting to suspect the woman only funded these events for the sole purpose of attending them to heckle her colleagues.

“And what crime would that be, Sue?”

“That hideous reindeer sweater,” Sue jabbed a finger towards Rachel’s carefully constructed outfit for the evening, “It’s assaulting my eyes!”

A quiet chuckle came from the front row of the crowd. Rachel looked over to find a young Latina woman, dressed casually in jeans, high-top vans and a skin-tight black top with a matching leather jacket. Her hair was pulled taut into a high ponytail; her face that of an immaculately constructed greek goddess. She might possibly have been the most beautiful, sophisticated woman Rachel had ever laid eyes on.

The woman caught Rachel staring, and took that as her cue to jump in. She stood up, dusting specks of paint off her jeans with obvious disdain. 

“First of all, I agree with Ellen over there. That sweater is not doing you any favours,” the woman’s voice was delightfully husky, and Rachel was so entranced by it that she missed the fact she was being outwardly insulted, “Second of all, I have an _actual_ thing I wanna report, and Scandal starts in like forty minutes so…”

At Rachel’s stunned silence, Kurt shot forward awkwardly; apparently unused to having to take the lead, “Of course, I’d like to be home for that too. What is it?”

“Well,” the woman eyed Rachel warily, unsettled by the intensity of her gaze, “My name is Santana Lopez, and frankly I’m not interested in politics.”

Sue and the other audience member, Barry the illusionist, applauded loudly. 

“Anyway, there’s this abandoned lot near my house. The developer dug out a basement for an office building, but then they went bankrupt.” Santana informed them, “So now it’s just a giant, ugly pit.”

“Oh no!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Not done,” Santana cut her off, “The other night, that pit almost killed my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” Kurt sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” Santana raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry, why is that the detail you’re focusing on here?”

Feeling all four pairs of eyes in the room on him, Kurt cleared his throat uncomfortably, “No reason. As you were.”

“My boyfriend,” Santana placed emphasis on it this time, “Who is a musician, actually, who I support financially, but he’s really kinda starting to make something of himself with it… anyway, he was walking home one night in the rain and he tripped and fell into the pit. Broke both his legs.”

“Oh no!” Rachel repeated, even more scandalised than the last time.

Santana nodded, “Timed your reaction appropriately there. Well done.”

“Thank you.”

“So, your boyfriend fell into the pit,” Kurt repeated, “And broke both his legs?”

“That’s right.” Santana confirmed.

“Right,” Kurt hummed, “Just out of curiosity, how long have you guys been together? Would you say it's a happy, fulfilling relationship?” 

“Um, I didn’t come here to be interrogated about my personal life." Santana grew defensive, much to the understanding of everyone in the room except Kurt, apparently, "Are you guys gonna fix that stupid hole up or not? It’s a safety hazard.”

“Yeah,” Sue leapt up in agreement, “What are you government drones going to do about it, Berry?”

In the back of the room, Rachel could see Artie and Kitty filming with interest. It was fairly normal for these kinds of meetings to get heated, given how much everyone in Lima cared about matters relating to local government. Rachel had become somewhat of an expert in diffusing tough situations by now.

“I’m really sorry to hear about your boyfriend,” Rachel spoke sincerely, “But this doesn’t seem like a government problem-”

“Actually it is,” Santana bit back immediately, “I checked and you guys own the land now. So, if you wanna blow me off you’ll have to come up with a different excuse.”

Sue cackled, taking out an outrageously large bowl of popcorn from her handbag and chewing loudly. Barry the illusionist crept a hand over her shoulder to grab some, only to be slapped away.

Rachel felt somewhat ruffled. Her opponent had clearly done her research going in, which she would have absolutely done too if she had been given prior notice regarding what it was they would be fighting about. She gathered herself, deliberately locking eyes with the woman in a show of strength. Santana scowled back, one eyebrow raised in challenge as if trying to intimidate her, and it was working. 

Actually, it was kind of hot.

“Well, Santana,” Rachel smiled tightly, “I’m not going to blow you off.”

“She wouldn’t know how.” Kurt muttered under his breath, and for his sake Rachel could only pray the obvious innuendo went unheard by everyone else in the room. It was highly unprofessional.

It seemed Santana hadn't paid him much attention, but was still unconvinced. “Really?”

“Really,” Rachel pushed up from the table, standing to attention, “I will help you.”

“Is that a promise?” There was the slightest shred of hope in the other woman’s voice, overpowering Sue's disbelieving laughter and Barry's constant chanting of what Rachel suspected might be satanic verse.

“It’s more than a promise,” Rachel frowned at Sue, disappointed as usual by her public disregard of everything their government stood for, “It’s a pinky promise.”

Feeling a light tug against the hem of her sweater, Rachel looked down to find Kurt still seated, and looking slightly alarmed.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. She supposed his panic was understandable, given that Will’s only directive every time they hosted one of these events was to never, ever, promise anything. Now, Rachel had done something even worse.

She'd pinky promised.

Look, Rachel was no rebel. She respected government processes, and followed them to the letter in order to maintain the integrity of the great system her country had chosen to live by... But this was her shining moment; her time to prove to everyone that she, Rachel Berry, Deputy Director of the Lima Parks and Recreation Department, was more than just a boring paper pusher.  The long road to becoming the first female President of the United States had to start somewhere. Why not here? 

She waved at Artie, who was somehow falling asleep in the back amid all the excitement. This wasn’t something the camera crew would want to miss.

“I will help you.” Rachel repeated, with absolute conviction this time. She could practically hear the Star Spangled Banner playing in the background while she spoke; perhaps Artie could add it during post production, “And, not only will we _fill_ that pit, but we will put a beautiful new park on that land. Together, we will make it a place that is safe, and fun for everyone in our community to enjoy. That is my promise to you, Santana Lopez. Are you with me?”

The proposal was met with dead silence, apart from the incessant crunch of popcorn from Sue’s corner of the room. 

“Honestly, I don’t care if you put a park on it,” Santana shrugged, “But sure, I guess I’ll help.”

* * *

_And so began the epic story of two brave women from opposite walks of life, who joined forces to take on the world; one public park at a time.  _

_ Rachel Berry had worked in the parks department for seven years, but despite her best efforts to turn the place around she’d never engaged in anything more interesting than park maintenance. Her most notable achievement last year had been the city wide initiative she led to disinfect the sandbox sand in children’s playgrounds after they had all those issues with the cats…  _

_ But a pit? _

_ A chance to build a new park? _

_ From **scratch?** _

_ This might very well be her Hoover Dam. _


	2. The Committee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments everybody! For those asking about which character is which, I decided to avoid specifically assigning the Glee kids a Parks & Rec counterpart (because it was too hard!) and am treating this story as if the characters from the Glee world just happened to grow up in a world without high school show choir.
> 
> So, there are some that have an obvious match to Parks & Rec like Rachel (Leslie), and of course I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to channel Kurt & Mercedes' serious Tom & Donna vibes. But then others are a bit of a blend. Eg. Santana is April/Ann, Brittany & Sam are both a little bit Andy, but Britt is also a little bit of April. Will is Ron but he doesn't hate government, he just hates his job so he's really bad at it (Spanish teacher, anyone?). Sue is Sue. I haven't changed anything, she just works in government now.
> 
> And yes, I am saving a select few glee faves for introduction into this story later on as well ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

_Merriam Webster defines committee as: ‘a body of persons delegated to consider, investigate, take action or report on some matter.’_

_In government, committees are power._ _Without one, the democratic system as we know it, wouldn't exist. It would flounder, fall flat on its face. We'd basically be communists._

_Biden, Obama, Stalin, Hillary, Kanye, Kamala... you name it; any politician worth their salt has probably been an active member of a committee at some point in their lives. Of course, Rachel didn’t know for sure if any of them had actually been on a committee and it would take her a while to check at least a few of them, but if she were to hazard a guess she'd say they would've been. It made sense._

_Because committees are the lifeblood of our democracy._

“Oh, that last line was good, did you get that?” Rachel looked over to Artie, who was sitting in his usual place behind the camera.

He grimaced, “Yep. Got it.”

“Are you sure?” Rachel frowned, “It doesn’t look like the red light is on.”

“The bulb is dead, but it’s recording.”

Outside the window, Kitty was on the phone to someone. Rachel frowned. Honestly, over the last few days she'd began to wonder how these college interns managed to get away with getting paid to do nothing all day. 

Then again, they probably weren't paying them.

“What’s Kitty doing out there?” she asked.

Artie shrugged, “Her grandma just died.”

A shrill laugh erupted from the wider office, as Kitty continued her conversation. Artie didn’t miss a beat, “They didn’t get along very well.”

“Oh.”

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, it’s actually quite hard to get anything done in government. 

There’s a lot of red tape involved.

The first step to building a park on a commercial lot, like the one outside Santana Lopez' house, is to start an exploratory subcommittee to assess things like community consensus, environmental impact and proposed annual government expenditure. However, in order to form an exploratory subcommittee, Rachel first had to find enough people willing to join the committee, which most people in government weren't willing to do until they'd had a chance to explore the basic tenets of the idea like community consensus, environmental impact and the like...

Luckily, Rachel had an in-built committee right at her disposal. She’d gathered the entire parks department in the conference room, except for Will. No one had seen him all day.

“Sorry I’m late,” Santana burst through the door, “This old man stopped me in the hallway and tried to take my shoes.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “Figgins… Mercedes, can you call security?”

“Mercedes, ‘call security.’ Mercedes, ‘fetch me an iced latte and two bagels.’” Mercedes rambled under her breath as she ambled out of the room, “I’m the only person in this place with a college degree and I still get treated like a gofer.”

In keeping with usual office norms, Mercedes was ignored. 

“Everyone, this is Santana Lopez. She is the beautiful, caring citizen who brought the pit to our attention.” Rachel announced proudly, “Santana, you remember Kurt.”

At Kurt’s half-hearted wave, Santana nodded, “I do.”

“Mercedes, who just left, is our community liaison officer.” Rachel continued. From outside the window, Mercedes held up a pre-made post-it note that said ‘hello,’ without looking away from the phone. 

“Then we have Artie and Kitty, our interns.” The pair waved from behind the camera, though Kitty was still texting. 

“And last but… well, I _shouldn’t_ say least, that's Brittany.” Rachel pointed in the direction of the blonde, surprised to find her actually paying attention for once, “She’s the Executive Assistant to the Director of the Parks and Recreation Department.”

“Long title.” Santana observed, taking the only spare seat in the room next to Brittany.

“Oh, I’m not important or anything,” Brittany shrugged, lowering her voice so only Santana could hear, “I mostly just hang out and watch Youtube fails all day. No one ever told me what my job was and at this point it’ll be a little awkward if I ask, right?”

Santana giggled, jumping when she noticed someone sitting to her right side for the very first time. The woman politely extended her hand, “I’m Tina, by the way.”

“Seriously, Tina,” Rachel groaned, “What are you even doing in here?”

“You called a meeting.”

When Santana shook the woman's hand, Rachel huffed. Brittany took out a bottle of hand sanitiser, offering it to Santana who accepted it with a confused frown on her face. She eyed Tina suspiciously, tipping some of the liquid into the palm of her hand and subtly inching her chair as far away from the woman as possible. Whatever was wrong with her, she didn’t want to catch it.

Meanwhile, Rachel surveyed the room proudly. She’d managed to gather an eclectic bunch of people to round out her proposed subcommittee and to have done so in such short time was nothing short of impressive. They had Santana to represent the common folk, Kurt to represent Lima's thriving gay population, Brittany to represent dumb blondes (of whom there were many), and Mercedes to represent… well, you know. 

College graduates.

Still, Rachel couldn’t help but feel they were missing somebody. Government could be a rough game, and she needed someone who played to win. She needed someone with power, someone with a proven track record who could really help them push this park through and get it done. They needed a closer. They needed-

“I think we should get Finn to join our subcommittee.”

“Finn who?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Rachel scoffed dramatically, blushing slightly, “Finn who?! Finn Hudson!”

“Isn’t that the guy from planning who still wears velcro shoes?” Tina asked

“Shut up, Tina,” Rachel snapped, “They’re not velcro.”

Kurt seemed skeptical, “Actually, I’m pretty sure they are.”

Rachel sighed, shooting an apologetic glance to Santana. Heaven forbid she get the wrong impression, “Finn’s a city planner, and he’s the best. Smart, handsome, makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich… just a great, clever, amazing, solid guy.” 

As Rachel rambled on dreamily, Brittany leaned in closer to Santana, “Rachel wants to have sex with Finn _so_ bad.”

At that, Santana’s eyes widened slightly. She swallowed, straightening up in her chair, “What did you say his last name was again?”

“Hudson. Finn Hudson. He's got an undefeated track record when it comes to getting projects off the ground,” Rachel beamed, “This park will go from a pipe dream to a reality if we get him on board. Trust me. Finn is our leading man.”

* * *

The meeting was over as quickly as it started. Santana assumed that was probably because there was nothing they were actually able to discuss other than forming the real committee, which was apparently already complete barring the recruitment of one Finn Hudson. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she’d wasted her time coming in the first place. It was like a 30 minute drive.

Artie and Kitty caught her on the away out of the office, like a pair of little vultures.

“So, you and Finn Hudson have history?” Kitty asked, dangling the boom dangerously close to the top of Santana's head.

Santana dodge the object, folding her arms and checking for eavesdroppers, “Yeah, I’m about 90% sure I took that guy’s virginity,” she paled at the thought, “It was not a good time.”

Behind them, Rachel slammed the phone down in her office, "Finn said no. We are _doomed._ ”

* * *

“Santana Lopez.”

Finn Hudson swaggered through the courtyard, reaching out to hug Santana who received it reluctantly. She was never one to enjoy being smothered. When the man pulled away to take one of the chairs at a nearby table, Santana took the opportunity to silently scrutinise him from head to toe.

Yep, definitely velcro.

“I’ve gotta say, I was surprised you still had my number." Finn gloated, "It’s been years.”

“I called your office phone, Finn. It’s listed online.” Santana deadpanned, taking the chair opposite him.

* * *

From her desk, Brittany had spotted the unlikely pair through the window and abandoned her computer to watch them. She sipped her milkshake, grabbing a mouthful of candy and waving unabashedly at Will, who didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned that she wasn’t working.

Mercedes popped up behind Brittany, “What are you doing?”

“Spying on Santana and Finn.” The blonde offered her a sour-patch kid without looking away from the sight in front of her.

“Santana and Finn,” Mercedes nudged her to the side to try and get a better look, “Do they know each other?”

“Looks like it.”

* * *

Santana had managed to withstand about thirty seconds of Finn's incessant mumbling before growing impatient. Clearly 'stupid' was a trait certain people didn't grow out of, even after high school. 

“Listen, Finnocence,” she leant forward against the table, deliberately letting the front of her top fall down slightly to distract him, “You need to say yes to joining Rachel Berry’s subcommittee.”

On catching a glimpse of Santana's chest, Finn's eyes glazed over. It was short lived though, “Wait, _you’re_ helping Rachel put a park on lot 48?”

“Yes I am.” Santana was indignant.

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Finn was flustered, eyes once again drifting to Santana's chest before he caught himself, “I didn’t have you pegged as someone who was interested in government work.

“How about you leave the pegging to me, for old time’s sake?” Santana teased.

Finn paled, “Keep your voice down.”

“Or what,” Santana sat upright, leaning back in her chair to survey the numerous open office windows currently surrounding them, “Are you worried someone might hear that you-”

The man across from her practically leapt over the table to clamp her mouth shut. Santana bit back a triumphant smirk. Some guys were just too easy.

“Look, you can’t come into my workplace and start throwing stuff like that around,” Finn hissed, towering above her. “That's not the kind of reputation I've built for myself here.”

Santana stood up, meeting his eyes defiantly. Despite the height difference, it was now Finn who seemed smaller, “Say yes to joining Rachel’s subcommittee and I’ll forget we ever met.”

Finn scoffed, “Really? _You’ll_ keep your mouth shut?”

* * *

Back in the office, Kurt had joined Mercedes and Brittany just in time to catch Santana zipping her lips and throwing away the key like some sort of Parisian mime. Obviously, without being in earshot, their minds were running wild with possibilities.

“Well,” Kurt bit down on a gummy bear, “This just got a lot more interesting.”

* * *

Honestly?

Santana didn't give a damn about who was on that lame subcommittee or whether or not any of them wanted to sleep with each other. If anything, it probably should’ve been her civic duty to _stop_ Rachel Berry from sleeping with Finn Hudson given what a shockingly bad lay he was, but she didn’t know (or like) the woman enough to care about who she opened her legs for. 

She just wanted the pit filled in.

“It’s not a big deal,” Santana shrugged, tired of getting the third degree from two dorky college students every time she came near this place, “Rachel said we needed Finn and now we have him. You’re all very welcome.”

* * *

“I just think Natalie Portman deserved better.”

Sam Evans whirled around to look at his girlfriend. They were sat in the dark on their living room sofa, watching Star Wars. It had been a frequent ritual of theirs since they met in community college, but not one Santana was ready to admit to anyone outside the four walls of her home. For obvious reasons.

“Look, I’m not saying I disagree,” he huffed, “But why is that all you ever take away from this movie?”

“Because it sucks,” Santana shrugged, grabbing the popcorn bowl from atop his double leg cast and moving to the kitchen behind them to replenish it, “All three of the prequels suck.”

The couple were interrupted by a knock at the door, startling Santana. Sam had already gone back to his movie, content to let Santana serve as his own personal wait-staff and housekeeper.

“What time is it?” Santana rushed around the apartment, frantically hiding the clutter.

“I haven’t worn a watch since fifth grade.”

“That dwarf lady from the government is coming over to look at the pit today,” Santana groaned, “I totally forgot. Can you turn that off?”

Sam grumbled, doing as he was told regardless and changing to an old episode of Full House, “I don’t get why you care so much about that pit all of a sudden.”

Santana stalled, looking at him with dismay, “You mean since you _fell_ into it and spent a week in hospital?”

“Yeah,” Sam pouted, “Ever since then it’s been all ‘the pit this,’ ‘the pit that.’ I’m starting to think you just don’t want to spend time with me anymore.”

Santana was flabbergasted, “You broke both your legs!”

“What, so that makes me less of a boyfriend?”

“Seriously?” At the second knock, Santana gave up on the conversation and handed him a fresh batch of popcorn on her way to the front door, “We’ll talk about this later.”

The lights came on, and Santana checked her reflection in the mirror, neatening her hair before opening the door with a wide smile. 

“Rachel, hi,” Santana’s face fell. “Nice hat?”

Standing in the doorway, flanked by a very unamused Kurt and a distracted Brittany, stood Rachel in a blue blazer-pantsuit combo. 

And a bright yellow hardhat.

“Hello Santana,” Rachel tipped her hat formally, “You remember Kurt? This is Brittany. She’s going to document our fact finding mission because Artie has class and Kitty said no.”

“Yeah, we met yesterday. Hi.” Santana waved sheepishly, blushing. Crap, what the hell was wrong with her?

Opposite, it seemed Brittany was having a similar problem. She saluted awkwardly, “Hello.”

Kurt said nothing, but his smirk was heard around the world.

“May we come in?” Without awaiting an answer, Rachel barged past Santana and into the apartment, making a beeline for Sam the minute she spotted him on the couch. 

“Is this him?” Rachel gushed, “Oh, the man who started a _revolution._ You poor thing. How are you, are you okay?”

“Fine thanks,” Sam grinned, holding up his snack bowl, “Jolly Rancher?”

As Brittany raced forward to grab a hand full, Rachel straightened, “On behalf of the government of Lima I just want you to know that we are doing everything we possibly can to rid the world of that despicable pit so that you can go back to feeling safe and secure in your home again. Stay strong, okay?” 

Sam blinked slowly. His eyes flickered to Santana for guidance, finding only a confused shrug, “Okay. Thanks.”

Apparently, that was enough.  Rachel clapped her hands together, tearing Brittany away from the snack bowl, "Ok people. Off to the pit we go! Let's see what we're up against."

* * *

It was a very large pit.

Rachel stood flanked by Santana and Kurt near the edge, while Brittany took photographs of a stray cat nearby. 

“So, he fell in right over there,” Santana pointed towards the other side of the pit, where two birds were tearing apart the head of a decapitated baby doll.

Rachel assessed the site, mouth agape, “I can’t believe we let this happen.”

“We’re the government,” Kurt drawled, “We let stuff like this happen all the time.”

Rachel bent down into a kneel, stumbling slightly in her high heels. She took a pinch of soil between her fingers, scrutinising it carefully like some sort of television detective.

“Soil. The crumbly kind,” she surmised.

“Is there any other kind?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.

“This whole area could be structurally compromised.” Rachel shot up to standing, snapping her fingers urgently at Brittany, “Brittany, get some pictures of this.”

“Of what?” Brittany abandoned the cat to rejoin the group.

“All of it,” Rachel waved flippantly towards the pit, “The whole thing.”

With Rachel’s back turned, Brittany took three pictures of the air behind her own head, before turning the camera on Santana and snapping one of the side of her face. The other woman glanced over at the shutter sound, lips quirking into a tentative half-smile, so Brittany took the opportunity to take another.

“That’s beautiful,” Brittany reviewed the second photo, completely missing the way Santana’s cheeks reddened at the comment. 

Kurt didn’t.

He eyed Santana with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, which she promptly ignored. She had no idea what that guy’s problem was but all the leery looks were starting to creep her out.

“So, what do you think?” Santana asked, refocusing on the task at hand, “Fill it in, plant some grass… add a bench or something?” 

Rachel spun around in shock, “I have to say I thought you were better than that, Santana Lopez.”

“Um-”

“Why shouldn’t this neighbourhood get a first class park like every other neighbourhood?” Rachel demanded, “Think about it. We could build a playground for the kids. Do you have kids?” 

“Other than Sam, no.”

“Do you want them?” Brittany asked, suddenly attentive.

Much to Kurt’s ongoing amusement, Santana’s typically cool facade crumbled once again. “Sam and I haven’t really…” she shook her head, flustered, “I don’t know. I guess I want them.”

Brittany smiled, casually snapping another photo of the woman, “Cool.”

Apparently, it hadn’t quite been the answer Rachel was looking for. “Okay,” she huffed, “Presumably there are many children in this neighbourhood though, right? Think of _those_ kids. Wouldn’t they just _love_ a shiny new swing-set and a softball field or one of those mushroom shaped things that shoot out water when you stand underneath them. Or a ferris wheel, and maybe some squash courts.”

“Do children play squash?” Kurt seemed skeptical.

“And right over there,” Rachel pointed to the other side of the park, where someone had dumped an old washing machine, “Over there is where we would put the atrium for moonlight cinema nights.”

Santana frowned, “I’m not sure the pit is big enough for all tha-”

“What's the point in dreaming if you don't go big?” Rachel insisted, turning to grab at the woman’s shoulder enthusiastically, “Think about it,” she thrust Santana forward to look out over the pit, “A magical wonderland arises from the ashes of a deadly pit. We could even name it after your boyfriend. The Santana’s Boyfriend Memorial Park.”

“Sam didn’t die.” 

“No one needs to know that,” Rachel brushed her off, tugging on Santana’s arm pleadingly, “It sounds great, right?”

After a brief pause, Santana reneged, “It’s not like I have a say anyway. You’re the one who works in government.”

“Excellent,” Rachel beamed, straightening her blazer and hardhat, “I’m going in.”

She turned around to edge herself down into the pit, causing both Santana and Kurt to rush forward in alarm.

“Is that necessary?” Santana asked

“Yeah, Rachel,” Kurt sounded panicked, “I didn’t include stupidity on the risk assessment form. Come back.”

“I just want to get a closer look at what we’re dealing with,” Rachel brushed them off, continuing in her downward trajectory, “Don’t worry, I’m wearing a hard hat.”

“I see that.”

No sooner had she reassured the group, than was Rachel toppling down backwards into the pit. She landed face first with her legs up in the air, pants splitting and leaving her private regions on full display for all to see. 

It was the first photo Brittany took of the actual pit since they had arrived. 

“Oh my God, Rachel,” Santana’s jaw dropped, “Are you alright?”

Kurt stifled a laugh, earning a half-baked glare from Santana, who seemed to be suppressing a smile of her own, “Sorry, I can’t help it.”

“I’m laughing too,” Brittany deadpanned, “Just not externally.”

* * *

While Kurt and Brittany were trading pictures of Rachel’s pit-fall, Santana had managed to crawl slightly more graciously in the pit with a first aid kit to help the poor idiot out. She held the brunette’s wrist in her hand, applying pressure on both sides to check for breakage.

So far so good.

“Your hands are so soft,” Rachel observed dizzily, holding an icepack to her head with the other hand, “Why is everything about you so perfect?”

Santana blushed, embarrassed. There was a lump in the back of the throat for some reason, “Not everything.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

When Rachel began to play absently with her fingers, Santana's breath hitched. She could only assume the other woman was concussed, because there was no way in hell anyone in their right mind would think it was appropriate to do that to someone they’d just met. Santana wasn’t sure what it was with all of these government workers and their offbeat sexual advances but it was really starting to throw her off her game.

She used to be cool.

Slowly extracting her hand from the other girl’s, Santana focused instead on bandaging it.

“Honestly,” Rachel hummed, “It’s so lucky there was a doctor here when I fell or I could’ve died.”

“I have a first aid certificate, Rachel. I’m hardly Meredith Grey,” Santana corrected her. “But I wouldn’t have let you die.”

Rachel pursed her lips, nudging the other girl gently, “That sounds like something Meredith Grey would say.”

Santana chuckled, shaking her head as she continued to apply the dressing. 

“What do you do again?” Rachel asked, eyes drifting aimlessly around the pit.

Santana finished wrapping the bandage, packing away her supplies, “I coach the cheerleading squad at McKinley High. Sixth-consecutive national champions. Aiming for seven in a few months time.”

Rachel’s eyes bugged out of her head, “Aren’t you a little young to have six national championships behind you?”

“Got the job pretty much straight out out of high school. Part time,” Santana was nonchalant, because being good at her job came to her like breathing. She’d been at it for too long to still be interested anymore, “The coach at the time was a psychotic bitch, so I let her train me for a couple of years then poisoned her protein shakes once I felt ready to take over for real.”

Rachel laughed, “You’re hilarious,” Then, at Santana’s silence, her face fell, “You’re kidding, right?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” 

* * *

Notwithstanding suspicions of homicide, Santana Lopez, cheer coach at McKinley High, seemed like a good person. Rachel was eager to crack through that tough exterior and get to know her better over the course of the next few months. When they met at the public forum, Rachel would be the first to admit she had thought Santana was simply a… well, she didn’t believe in using the word _bitch._

“It's demeaning to call a woman that." Rachel conceded, "As are a number of comments that spring to mind about her attractiveness, so I will keep those to myself too. Anyway, now… I wouldn’t exactly say she’s my best friend, but we’re very good friends. Definitely.”

“Didn’t you guys just meet like four days ago?” Brittany asked from behind the camera.

“Three.” Santana interjected. She was sat on the couch immediately to the right of where the pair where filming in her living room, and looked decidedly alarmed by what she'd just overheard. 

"This is weird right?" Santana turned to Sam for reassurance, "She sounds really stalker-ish.”

“Nah, she seems nice,” her boyfriend shook his head, placing a gentle hand on her knee, “Besides, it could be good for you to hang out with more girls. You haven’t really had a girl friend since that chick you were really close to back when we first met.”

From the lounge chair, Kurt’s ears pricked up. 

“Remember her?” Sam continued, “You guys were always sharing clothes and sleeping over and-”

“Mhmm,” Santana tensed, distracting the boy by gently running her fingers through his hair and turning up the TV, “I remember. Now shush, Yoda’s talking and you know I can never understand anything he says.”

“That’s the point. He’s talking backwards.”

* * *

Kurt left about an hour later, citing boredom. Brittany opted to stay behind, though nobody was entirely sure why. She sat trawling through her photos at the kitchen bench while Santana prepared lunch. 

Meanwhile, Rachel and Sam sat next to each other in the living room. For some reason Rachel’s pain seemed to be getting worse, not better, and Santana was growing more and more skeptical the longer it went on.  Rachel groaned dramatically, icing the back of her neck in agony for all to see.

“I still can’t believe you fell in too,” Sam chuckled to himself, “That’s hilarious.”

“It’s not hilarious, Trouts.” Santana called from the kitchen.

Sam turned back to grin at her, “Oh come on, it’s pretty funny.”

“It is a little funny,” Brittany concurred, looking curiously at Santana, “Why do you call him Trouts?”

“Because of my pillow soft lips,” Sam bragged, puckering up.

“Trouty Mouth,” Santana clarified, “Like a fish.”

Brittany regarded the man momentarily, eyes lighting up in recognition, “Oh yeah.”

Santana smirked before grabbing another ice pack, traipsing over to Rachel and swapping it out with the one she was using. 

“As horrible as earlier was, it’s going to make stating my case a lot easier once I get back to the office,” Rachel sighed airily, “There’s no way my boss, Will Schuester, is going to ignore me when I have a fractured spinal chord.”

“Nothing is fractured.” Santana rolled her eyes.

“Trust me, I’m the one with the spinal chord.” Rachel insisted, “I think I know when it’s fractured.”

Sam’s face scrunched up in confusion, “I thought we all had those.”

“Not me,” Brittany chipped in, “My Mom always used to call my Dad a ‘spineless coward’ and everyone says I take after him, so…”

“Do you have one of those metal back braces?” Rachel cut the blonde off, pointedly standing up as slowly as possible. 

Santana scoffed, catching Rachel when she 'fell' into her, “Why would I have one of those?”

Sam, on the other hand, bounced around on his couch cushion like an overeager golden retriever, “Ooh, Babe. Check the costume box. Remember when you did Regina George for Halloween?”

"Seriously, you're fine." Santana ignored the man, instead guiding Rachel towards the front door.

She ignored the vague mumble from Rachel in argument, handing the government worker her belongings on the way out. Then, as if catching herself being rude, caught the woman by the arm in the doorway.

“Thanks for all your help with this pit thing, Rachel,” she forced a smile. “For what it's worth, I hope your spine isn't really broken.”

Despite the comment, it seemed Rachel forgot all about her fractured spinal chord for a moment because she curtsied in the doorway. Humbly, of course. “Well, I am a public servant. You’re the public. It is my pleasure to serve you.”

At that, the Latina woman's eyes darkened, lips quirking up into a wry smile. 

“ _Wanky._ ”

From the couch, Sam roared in appreciation. He offered up an air-high five to his girlfriend, returning it himself when she didn’t. For the most part, Rachel was simply confused.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Santana remembered herself then, clearing her throat, “Sorry. Inside joke.”

Rachel accepted the explanation, nodding, “Hey listen, why don’t you drop by the office tomorrow? We can talk about the project and maybe grab a coffee. Get to know each other a little bit?” 

“Sure.” Santana shrugged.

“Great.” Rachel grinned, “I’ll see you later then.”

The door closed, and Rachel left. She was halfway back to the office before it occurred to her that she'd left her one-woman camera crew behind.

* * *

Without any prying ears nearby, Brittany had jumped at the opportunity to interview Santana about her fledgling friendship with the abrasive city council worker known as Rachel Barbra Berry.

"Is that really her middle name?" Santana frowned, "Okay. Well, Rachel's not my best friend," she clarified, not typically one to associate herself that way with anyone, let alone someone she'd just met. "And she's very irritating. But I don't have a lot of female friends so... why not try, right? It's just coffee."

Off camera, Brittany couldn’t help but chime in, “So, does that mean the best friend position is still open then?”

A shy grin overtook her subject’s face almost immediately.

Given that Brittany hadn't really taken pictures of anything relevant that day, she'd been rudely informed by Rachel that most of her shots were unusable. It wasn't a wasted day though, because the blonde had stumbled upon the knowledge that their surly new associate smiled a lot whenever Brittany said things. She was doing all she could to recreate that image as often as possible.  You know, for the sake of the documentary.

“Yeah,” Santana nodded, “Looks like it.”

“Awesome.”

* * *

“I’m not giving you Lot 48, Rachel,” Will sounded bored. He traced the outline of the heading on the newspaper in front of him with a ball-point pen, only looking up when Rachel slammed a report down on his desk.

Oh, she was wearing a metal back-brace. 

“Did you do that during work hours?” Will asked immediately, fearing a lawsuit.

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Rachel put her hands on her hips, “And I think we need to talk about how.”

She swiftly took a seat opposite her manager, ready to make her case when suspicion clouded the older man's features. 

“You’re awfully quick for someone with a spinal injury.”

Rachel hesitated, “You know me, Will. Million miles an hour, fractured spine or not!”

Will didn’t believe his deputy for one second, but humoured her anyway, “You did this at Lot 48?”

“Yes, we need to do something about that place before someone gets _killed_.” Rachel placed some of Brittany’s photos on the table as evidence. The blonde had mostly just captured pictures of cats and Santana, but there’d been a few that showed the wider pit which Rachel had managed to salvage for the cause.

Unfortunately, those photos also happened to be the ones featuring her in a rather... compromising position.

“Are these all you?” Will asked, mortified. 

“I fell in,” Rachel nodded, “Anyone could’ve.”

“And yet, Kurt and Brittany are perfectly fine,” Will looked up at Rachel, who was bursting with impatience. She'd played the long game, and now was the time to strike.

“Let me start an exploratory subcommittee to investigate turning Lot 48 into a community park, Will.” she pleaded.

“No,” Will shook his head, “It’s a commercial site. Do you know how much paperwork I’d have to do just to even get permission to _look_ at turning it into a park? More than I’ve done all year, that’s how much.”

“It’s three pages, we're well into October?”

“You’re not getting Lot 48, Rachel.” Will repeated, “I’m sorry, my hands are tied.”

Rachel pouted, making a show of wincing painfully as she stood up from the chair. Will watched her leave, not missing the price tag that dangled from her fake back brace on the way out, but electing to ignore it regardless.

He was certain her spine would be making a miraculous recovery sometime within the next hour. 

* * *

It was approximately 4:30pm the next day when Santana arrived at Lima City Hall, scantily clad in a WMHS singlet and black booty shorts. Practice had run slightly overtime, so she'd rushed straight over from school in order to make it in time for her and Rachel's coffee date.

“Stop it,” Santana slapped away Artie’s camera as it zoomed in on her bare legs, “I haven’t had a chance to change yet.”

She walked into the parks office to find reception unattended, as usual. 

“Hello,” Brittany leapt up from the floor behind it, faltering when she saw the other woman’s attire, “Santana. Hi.”

Santana jumped back in surprise, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Brittany breathed, pointedly checking her out this time.

“Hi.” 

Nearby, an unamused Mercedes scanned her magazine, “You guys should have your own talkshow.”

As if on cue, Santana blushed.

“Is Rachel around?” she cleared her throat, looking anywhere but Brittany, whose eyes were still entirely on her.

“Oh, yeah. Probably,” Brittany snapped back. She scanned the office half-heartedly, coming up empty, “Between you and me, I try to pretend she isn’t there a lot of the time.”

Santana chuckled in spite of herself, right as the door opened behind her to reveal none other than a smug Finn Hudson entering the office. His bravado dropped the moment he saw Santana standing there.

“Santana,” Finn nodded tersely, “Long time no see.”

“Yet somehow, not long enough.” Santana's voice was acidicly sweet.

Mercedes cackled, turning to the next page of her magazine without acknowledging any of them. Kurt noticed the tense exchange and raced out of his office. He sidled up next to Brittany at the front counter, propping his head up on one hand against the bench.

“So what’s the deal you two? Rivals? Ex-lovers?” He probed, “Oh my God, are you having an affair? Are you cheating on poor, beautiful Sam with this guy?”

“Ew,” Santana was visibly disgusted, “No. Finn is absolutely not my type.”

Finn reddened, “You weren’t saying that when we-”

“What is your type?” Brittany cut him off.

A very long, awkward silence permeated the room, as everyone in it awaited an answer. Santana wasn’t sure where to look. 

God, what _was_ it with these parks people?

She swallowed tightly, “Um… blondes.”

“There she is!” came Rachel’s obnoxiously loud voice as she bustled out of her office. Santana had never been so relieved to hear it. The woman noticed Finn soon after, “And there he is!” Then, reached the two guests, holding her arms out, “There they both are!”

“Hey Rachel,” Santana found herself swallowed into a group hug. Ugh, she hated hugs. And group activities.

“I take it the two of you have met.” Rachel pulled away.

“We have.” Santana nodded.

“Yep,” Finn confirmed, “But only recently. Like, ten or so minutes ago. I didn’t know her before today.”

“Nice save, buddy.” Kurt patted him on the shoulder, returning to work. 

Rachel, it seemed, was none the wiser. She grabbed Santana by the arm, yanking her out of the office, “So, is this your first time here? Do you want a tour?”

“I was literally here with you on Monday.”

* * *

There weren’t many people in city hall that Will Schuester liked. 

Kurt, maybe, because he was smart enough to know that everything they did here was meaningless so he no longer tried. Oh, and  Brittany, but only because she was terrible at managing his diary and always deleted meeting requests so he didn't have to go to them. Everyone else, he tolerated, at best. 

But Finn Hudson? 

That guy was in a league of his own.

“Finn!” Will stood up from his desk, reaching out to shake the younger man’s hand, “What brings you here, buddy?”

Finn sat down on the chair, getting straight to business, “Lot 48.”

Will’s face fell, “Rachel got to you too?”

“Just let her look into it,” Finn pushed, “It’ll probably fall over later anyway. What’s the harm in trying?”

Will didn’t understand what was happening. Finn was one of the best people they had in city hall. He only took on projects with an easy completion rate to make himself seem more successful than his coworkers, and Will respected him immensely for it. The thought of the guy involving himself in a project that was doomed to fail triggered a few alarm bells almost immediately. 

“What’s in this for you?” Will folded his arms suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Finn shrugged, “I like parks.”

Finn averted his gaze, and it was obvious the man was keeping secrets. If Will cared enough about his job, he probably would’ve fought the guy on it for a little longer, because a subcommittee would be a lot of extra work and Will didn't want one anywhere near his department. Even so, the very idea that someone in this place had a secret worth keeping was the most interesting thing that’d happened to Will in months. 

Maybe years, actually.

He was kind of curious to see how it would all play out.

“Fine. I’ll fill out the damn forms.”

* * *

After a quick detour to the bathrooms so Santana could get changed, Rachel had led them both on one of her famous tours of Lima City Hall. She always got five star reviews for these, mostly due to her unrivalled knowledge on 20th century woodwork and how that didn't apply at all to this building, which was knocked down and remodelled only two years prior. They were midway through the door when Santana stopped dead in her tracks, gasping in shock. Rachel kicked herself. It was always a gamble coming down this hallway. 

“Ah, yes,” Rachel nodded solemnly, “That’s one of the most popular murals in city hall. We get a lot of foot traffic up this way... People taking pictures and stuff.” 

“Are you kidding?” Santana frowned at the painting, which depicted a young Native American boy about to be beheaded by three white European soldiers. At Rachel’s silence, her jaw dropped, “You’ve gotta be _kidding_ , right?”

Rachel shook her head, much to Santana’s disgust, “Not at all. There are some awful people here in Lima.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Santana seethed, continuing down the hall alongside the brunette.

“Most of the murals around here are like that.” Rachel admitted, somewhat embarrassed on behalf of the entire government of Lima, “But there’s this one that's just a field of wildflowers on the 3rd floor that I like to eat lunch at sometimes. It’s nice.”

“Well, next time I’d way rather you showed me that one,” Santana huffed, “If I ever see one of these again it’ll be too soon.”

“Noted.” Rachel beamed, unable to quell the urge of excitement within her at the other woman’s comment.

Next time.

God, she was _so_ gonna nail this new best friend thing.

The pair idled side by side in silence for a while. Not for long though; a minute, maybe less. Rachel didn’t enjoy silence all that much.

“So, do you want to see the DMV next?” she asked, “Or maybe animal control? There’s always weird stuff going on in there.”

“Lead the way.” 

“Rachel!” interrupted Kurt’s shrill voice from behind them, “Will filled out the paperwork. You got the subcommittee!”

Positively giddy with excitement, Rachel launched herself at an unsuspecting Santana for a celebratory hug. They were joined moments later by Kurt and Brittany, the latter of whom bounded down the hallway and practically swept Santana off her feet for a follow-up hug, right as Rachel was pulling away. 

The government worker watched intently as the blonde whirled the other girl around in the air; Santana realising a quiet, uncharacteristic giggle before she was lowered back down to the ground. The pair separated slowly, Brittany’s hands lingering against Santana’s waist for a moment too long. Rachel couldn’t believe it.

She’d _told_ Brittany to stop groping strangers. Poor Santana must've been at a loss for what to do.

Regaining control of the situation would be imperative now, if only to avoid the inevitable legal action Brittany was bound to bring upon the entire city of Lima. Rachel clapped her hands together frantically, getting everyone’s attention. 

“I think this calls for a celebration!”

* * *

When Rachel barged back into the parks office proposing a champagne toast, Will Schuester immediately packed his belongings and left for the afternoon.

Everyone else was eagerly awaiting Rachel’s speech so they could finally start drinking.

“To our beautiful new committee,” Rachel raised her glass, “A committee of dreams! And to America!”

It was met with a chorus of yeses from those around her, and Rachel wasted no time draining the glass, holding it out for Kurt to refill immediately. She drained a second glass, then a third. Much to Kurt and Mercedes’ amusement. 

Santana raised an eyebrow, “Guys, I'm all for drinking on government property but don’t you think you should slow down?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than was Santana being rounded into a corner by the pair. 

“Rachel gets hammered a couple of times a month, and it is amazing.” Mercedes explained lowly, “It’s the only way most of us can tolerate all the crazy stuff she does so not only do we let it happen, we encourage it.”

“Do not take this away from me.” Kurt hissed.

Behind them, Santana spotted Rachel sneakily swapping her glass out with an empty one before approaching an oblivious Brittany for a refill. She smirked, raising her hands in mock defeat.

“Well, who am I to stop you both?”

* * *

Hours later, Rachel found Santana talking closely with Brittany, Mercedes and the interns. She was probably a little tipsy to do anything about it now, but Rachel made a mental note to write Brittany up for improper behaviour later on. As government workers, they had a duty of care to their people and said duties included _not_ sexually intimidating members of the public.  It was disgusting to see this sort of behaviour take place in her own office, especially given that Santana clearly didn’t feel comfortable rejecting the gesture due to the inherent power imbalance between herself and any sort of government official. Rachel pointedly eyed the hand resting at Santana’s back in the hope that Brittany would at least get the message and back off. 

She didn’t.

“Well, well, well,” Rachel slurred, arriving at the group and deliberately stumbling into Brittany to knock her hand away, “I guess you and I are going to be spending a lot more time together.” 

Mercedes frowned, looking between the other women, “Who’s she talking to? Is she talking to me?”

“She’s definitely not talking to me,” Tina appeared out of nowhere.

“Sometimes, I think she’s talking to me,” Brittany mused, “But it’s actually just that stray cat in the courtyard. You know the one that sits and screeches all day?”

All three women laughed at that; four, if you count the involuntarily smile that escaped Santana (which Rachel did). She deflated slightly, but held her head high.

“Ice,” she announced, turning on her heel, “I think we need more ice.”

* * *

“William.”

Finding Sue Sylvester waiting for you in the darkness of your own living room isn’t something anyone would want to experience in their entire life, ever.  Will had honestly just been hoping they wouldn't make it a hat-trick.

Apparently not.

“Sue,” Will tossed his keys into the bowl by the door, marching into the kitchen to grab a drink. He figured he was going to need it.

The city manager followed him to the fridge, stalking him like some sort of awkward, bird-like predator.

“Word on the street is that you’re supporting Berry’s bid to build a park on Lot 48,” Sue drawled, “I’ve gotta say I’m quite surprised you’re being so vocal about this.”

“Yeah?” Will humoured her, sipping his beer against the kitchen bench, “Why’s that?” 

“You and I both know that the success of your department all these years has been predicated upon your ability to tread the waters of mediocrity, William,” Sue stated simply, “The Parks Department starts building parks, and then what? Animal control start humanely decommissioning strays? The library starts lending out books for free?”

“Wait, they don’t do that already?” 

“My point, Schuester,” Sue sneered, “Is that this government doesn’t have the capacity to support your merry band of misfits and their pet cheerleading coach on their little quest to turn a prime piece of commercial real estate into a public park that’ll cost us more in one year than any of your employees make in a lifetime. Shut it down, or I shut you down. Got it?”

Will considered the woman’s words carefully. Generally speaking, he _did_ have a no-productivity policy at work. It was the only way to feel successful in government; don’t try in the first place. 

That being said, he hated Sue. She was annoying, and she always parked her car across half of his parking space to stop people scratching the side of it. She was a bully, who diverted half of the government’s funds each year into a private offshore account for her own personal gain, and then took great pride in bragging about that to everyone because they were all too afraid to speak out against her. Also (as he’d probably mentioned before), he'd been really bored at work lately.

Sue Sylvester didn’t want a park on Lot 48? 

Sue Sylvester wanted a _war_ with the Parks and Recreation Department? 

Bring it on.

Will set his beer down, traipsing towards Sue with a truckload of unearned confidence surging through his veins. He stopped just short of touching her, making sure to maintain eye contact the entire time, to ensure the message got through.

“I’d like to see you try.”

* * *

Obviously, Rachel hadn’t actually left to get ice. What would they even use ice for? They had a refrigerator.  Santana found her sitting out in the courtyard a few moments later, next to the cat.

“So, looks like this park thing might be happening after all.” Santana flopped down on the floor next to Rachel, drink in hand.

“Looks like it.” Rachel tipped her glass, with the intention of finishing it in one fell swoop.

“Woah, hey,” Santana wrestled the drink away from her, “I think that’s enough of that.”

“Please,” Rachel guffawed, “I’m only just getting started.”

Santana rolled her eyes, “You can drop the act, Berry. No one’s out here.”

And with one look at the other girl, Rachel knew she’d been caught. As if she’d ever get drunk on government property. There were rules about that, and she had every intention of becoming president some day. She shrunk into herself, refusing comment.

“Why do you let them treat you like that?” came Santana’s voice eventually, curious more than critical.

For her part, Rachel was still eager to keep up as much of the act as possible, “Like what?”

“Rachel.”

Rachel looked away, embarrassed. Her high school theatre sports teacher always used to say she was amazing at the dramatic scenes, but terrible at doing anything that required the smallest ounce of vulnerability. In times like these, she remembered why. Her chest felt all bubbly.

“I’m a little hard to swallow,” Rachel started quietly.

_“Wanky.”_

Rachel’s eyes shot up at the girl, “What does that even-” Then, realised it would detract focus, “You know what, never mind."

She curled up into a ball on the floor, growing annoyed at the feeling of a persistent pair of eyes on hers. Maybe it was the alcohol making her fuse shorter than usual.

"They’re not bad people, Santana." Rachel kicked her legs out in front of her, "If laughing at me behind my back from time to time gets the job done, then I’m fine with it.”

“Rachel, they laugh at you _in front_ of your back,” Santana was aghast. 

“Thus allowing me to both critique the quality of the jokes and provide constructive feedback." 

It earned a stunned, disbelieving laugh from the woman beside her, and Rachel couldn’t help but join in. Yep, she was definitely a little tipsy. She felt a shoulder nudge hers a short while later, and looked up to find Santana watching her closely.

“You’re kind of a loser, you know that right?” she asked, as if worried such a thought had never occurred to Rachel, and it was her duty to point it out.

Rachel smirked, “No one’s called me that since high school.” 

“Not to your face.” Santana quipped. 

They fell into a momentary silence, then Rachel felt the other woman stiffen beside her.

“Which high school did you say you went to again?” Santana asked carefully.

“Don’t worry,” Rachel laughed, sensing which direction the conversation was heading in, “It wasn’t McKinley.”

Santana exhaled in relief, “Oh, thank God. I used to eat nerds like you for breakfast.”

“ _Wanky.”_ Rachel tested the word out on her tongue, “Am I doing that right?” 

Santana shuddered, laughing nonetheless, “I don’t think that’s ever gonna sound right when you do it.”

Rachel watched her new friend with a sparkle in her eye, and considered how much had changed this week. There was no question that the road ahead wouldn't be easy for them. This subcommittee was step one of a thousand high stair case they had to climb, and there was no way to know how many times they'd stumble before they reached the top; or if they'd get there at all.  Still, no matter what happened next, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if the journey might have already been worth it. 

When Santana caught her staring, and smiled back, Rachel knew it had.

“We’re going to build a park,” she cheered, holding her glass out in celebration.

Santana clinked her’s against Rachel’s, raising it to the sky, “Hells yes we are.”

_America is a funny place. It’s full of hope; of small towns and big cities and real people and delicious beverages and hot guys and gals. In an instant, your whole life could change because you dared to hope it would. Because this is America, the land where all your hopes and dreams actually come true._

_Rachel’s spent years reading about the day people woke up and realised they’d made it. Fame, broadway shows, chart-topping singles, US presidencies. The list was endless._ _But in all the success stories, however different they may be, there’s a day long before the fame that people don’t talk about as much._

_The day that turns the rest of your life around, because a decision was made to try._

_Rachel has a sneaking suspicion that day might’ve already come._


End file.
